Ch Apter 2 SLOW VULNERABILITY in OKINAWA
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Ch apter 2 SLOW VULNERABILITY IN OKINAWA Introduction Vulnerability is often understood as a condition of defenselessness to the surrounding environment. To be vulnerable is to be susceptible to physical or emotional harm. Human beings may fi nd themselves vulnerable in the context of violent warfare, in the presence of provoked venomous snakes, and in the throes of global economic instability. Yet there is no satisfactory verb to describe the act of being made vulnerable. “Vulnerability” is rather conceived of as a state or a quality, comparable to a noun such as “power- lessness” or an adjective akin to “defenseless.” In Japanese, a person can be easy to wound (傷つけられやすい) and a group of people can be charac- terized as socially vulnerable (社会的弱者). However, both the English and Japanese languages could be vitalized by a verb that describes more fully the process of being made vulnerable or “vulnerabilized.” In this chapter, I ar- gue that social, political, and environmental vulnerability in Okinawa is not static; rather, vulnerability is a processual phenomenon that must be situated historically to be properly understood. Th is chapter reconsiders the relation- ship between violence and vulnerability by attending to the problem of time. Temporality is crucial to understanding the long-term eff ects of colonization and war, the experiences of those who are vulnerabilized, and the expression of this vulnerability in Okinawa today. Animals, Violence, and Vulnerability Forests full of Itajii (Castanopsis sieboldii), numerous valleys and fl owing rivers, and the sea surrounded by Inoo (lagoon). … Stretching from north to south and with only a short distance from the mountain recesses to the sea, Yambaru consists of diverse environments that change in a variety of ways. Th e creatures 29 This open access library edition is supported by Knowledge Unlatched. Not for resale. Footprints in Paradise of Yambaru use various environments in intelligent ways and live closely linked together. Th e nature of Yambaru supports human beings too, who are also closely connected to other creatures and the natural environments. —Exhibit caption on “Th e Nature and Creatures of Yambaru” Ufugi Nature Museum, Kunigami Vulnerability in Okinawa is expressed through animals. Since it was fi rst formally described by scientists in 1981, the Okinawa rail (in the Okinawan language, Yanbaru/Yambaru kuina), has become the cultural, touristic, and conservationist mascot of northern Okinawa’s Yambaru region. Th e Oki- nawa rail is a rare fl ightless bird endemic1 to the main island, an area fa- mous for its natural beauty and rare semitropical forests. Th e rail’s inability to defend itself against both “natural” predators such as the venomous habu (pit viper), and “unnatural” predators, primarily the mongoose (an invasive species), make the bird particularly powerful as a symbol of Okinawa’s envi- ronmental vulnerability. More recently, human automobile drivers have also killed the nocturnal bird known for crossing rural roads at dawn. I fi rst learned about the rail, the habu, and the mongoose while hiking on group forest treks in the northern Yambaru Area of Okinawa Island. Our guides’ lively moralized stories about these three animals’ relationships to the landscape, to humans, and to each other are what fi rst led me to think about nonhuman animals as agents of environmental change in Okinawa. Th e na- ture of the human-animal “close connections” alluded to in the epigraph can be more fully understood by combining two histories that are often told separately: (1) the mongoose’s environmental colonization of Yambaru, and (2) Japan’s political and economic colonization of Okinawa. In this chapter, I argue that the sensationalized “violence” enacted between a pit viper and a mongoose in a contemporary, touristic context refl ects a much larger history of economic violence. Th is violence began when Japan’s development of an expansive sugar industry on Okinawa Island during the late nineteenth century thrust Okinawa into a volatile global economic sys- tem. Sugar quickly became a quintessential vulnerabilizing cash crop that intensifi ed the links between humans and animals during this period—both intimately, to each other, and to the larger economic and environmental imperatives that prompted new forms of interspecies contact on the island. Th e environmental vulnerability produced by the “sugaring” of Okinawa exploded into an acute crisis during the 1945 Battle of Okinawa, which de- stroyed much of the southern and central part of Okinawa. Compared with the overwhelming environmental devastation wrought by World War II, sug- ar’s relatively protracted agricultural “assault” on the Okinawan landscape may appear insignifi cant. Even so, Okinawa’s current economic structure 30 This open access library edition is supported by Knowledge Unlatched. Not for resale. Slow Vulnerability in Okinawa and environmental challenges cannot be adequately understood without attending to historical processes large and small, and to violent forces fast and slow. Stories of the habu, the mongoose, and the Okinawa rail can be told in many ways; in this version, I emphasize time as the narrative vector that connects Okinawa’s nineteenth-century political economy with today’s tourism imperative. Th rough the creation of a multispecies narrative history we can begin to understand the legacy of colonization and war on Okinawa’s “untouched” northern landscape, and how this history continues to shape the “conditions of possibility” (Foucault 2002) for contemporary island tourism. Animal Actors Mr. Uchihara, a cheerful man in his mid-sixties, jumped on stage wearing amber-colored glasses, a tropical Okinawan kariyushi shirt, and a headband reminiscent of an Okinawan eisaa drummer.2 Welcoming about a dozen vis- itors to the habu-mongoose show at the Izumi tourist rest stop in Nago (see Figure 2.1), he encouraged us to take pictures before things had even started. FIGURE 2.1 • Advertisement for Habu-Mongoose Show, Nago 31 This open access library edition is supported by Knowledge Unlatched. Not for resale. Footprints in Paradise “Did you know that a pit viper can survive without food for six months?!” Uchihara asked, warming up the audience by sharing some bits of trivia about the snake we were there to see. A few months earlier, I had seen an en- tirely computer-simulated habu-mongoose show at a nearby cultural theme park. After hearing that these shows were no longer “real,” I was unsure what to expect. Suddenly he surprised us all by whipping the lid off a large plastic garbage can tucked in a corner of the room to produce a real live yellow- and white- splotched snake. Of the four poisonous snake species on Okinawa Island, he assured us, this was not one. He enticed a few nervous children to go up on stage and try on the harmless “boa” for size. “Click! Click! Click!” went their parents’ mobile devices. “Remember to use your fl ash!” he repeated, clearly concerned with the quality of our photos. I did not desire this particular memory, not even for fi eldwork. Was it too late for me to fl ee on the grounds of animal cruelty? As though reading my mind, Uchihara singled me out as the only non-Japanese tourist present, and stated that my foreignness made it doubly important for me to enjoy the experience. He brought the snake closer, suggesting that I hand my camcorder to my neighbor for a photo opportunity. I shuddered, and was immediately embarrassed by my refl ex- ive recoil. I very tentatively grazed the snake’s skin with my fi ngertips, then placed the luckless creature back in its garbage can. “And now, for the real thing!” Uchihara shouted merrily as he used a shiny metal hook to scoop out a habu from an adjacent can. He squeezed the base of the snake’s head, forcing its jaws open to reveal a sharp pair of fangs. He swung the snake around eff ortlessly, manipulating its poses like a master puppeteer. Th ere were a few squeaks and tremors from the audience, but most people appeared to trust him to keep us alive through the end of the show. Pointing to the snake’s brown-grey triangular head, Uchihara taught us that head shape is the easiest way to determine whether a species is poisonous, and commanded, “Repeat after me: I will not touch this outside.” After a few more minutes of showing the habu, Uchihara returned the snake to its plastic lair and pulled down a giant projector screen. He stood before us and began recounting the history of the live habu-mongoose show we were not about to see: “It’s funny, isn’t it? It’s okay for dogs to fi ght dogs, and for bulls to fi ght bulls. And people fi ght people, right? But to pit one animal against a diff erent species is illegal. Th is is a very unusual law. They say Japan is the only place in the world with a law like this.” I was surprised by his disapproval of what seemed to me like a fairly reasonable (if imper- fect) moral delineation, but as he continued I began to understand his logic: “It’s okay for a human to kill a mongoose, and it’s okay for a human to kill 32 This open access library edition is supported by Knowledge Unlatched. Not for resale. Slow Vulnerability in Okinawa a habu.3 Th ese animals are exterminated! But it’s not okay for us to let them kill each other. Th e fi ne for doing this is ¥1,000,000 [$12,000]!” Anticipating a tinge of disappointment from those of us who had hoped to see a live show, he reassured us that we were still in for a rare treat, because this “precious” fi lm could only be seen at his habu house.